five times
by tatty ted
Summary: Five times Baz told Louis she loved him. - —Baz/Louis. /Oneshot, lower case letters.


ϟ

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**five times**  
_that the past is real._

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i.

she remembers when he was placed into her arms after labour, overwhelmed by the rush of love she experienced for him. a couple of minutes old, the cutest button nose she'd ever seen on a baby and the tiniest fingers ever.

she kisses his forehead as charlie cooes next to her how adorable he is. she smiles. it's strange to think you carry _that_ for nine months, that human being. she holds him closer to her chest, feeling content, like her whole life was complete just with him being born.

she remembers when she discovered she was pregnant, the shock of it all. especially when it wasn't her husband's baby but the man she's been having an affair with. she thought, argued with herself, cried herself to sleep for days wondering if an abortion was right.

she'd done it once before, why not again? there was never a good time to have a child and this certainly wasn't right, —

in the middle of an affair with her ex. as she held her newborn son closely to her chest, she was glad she didn't abort him. he, with his little button nose and tiny toes and fingers was the best thing in baz's life, he'd be the best thing she'd ever have in her life.

"i love you," she whispers and kisses his cheek.

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ii.

he's only just turned four — had his birthday party (pirate themed) four days ago when he comes home, withdrawn. call it mother's instinct but she knew, even before she looked into his eyes that there was something causing her son such pain.

she's right. his knees are grazed and blood has dried on his legs. she wonders if he cried, who did it, how he did it. she wonders how no adult spots a child, one of four with grazed knees. she gets him to sit at the table, heading into doctor mode and reaching for the first aid kit.

"what happened?"

"fell over." he mutters without making eye contact. even at four he understands silence. he has no choice but to be quiet if he wants the older boys to stop bullying him. the only boys are five and six and seven and they bully him — well —

they're mean, call him names and kick/push him over. they're sneeky but they're children. they're learning right and wrong and the consequences of their behaviour the older they get. she just wishes her son didn't have to be put through it, their life lessons really.

"louis?" he stares at his mother, eyes so like his father and she feels a deep sadness inside, "you would let mummy know if you don't like school won't you?"

he nods, he smiles but even baz can tell his smile never quite reached his eyes. she's fearful because if her son doesn't like school at four years old, what chance do they have for the future?

she tries not to think about it, maybe in time these boys will stop hurting her little boy. she takes a mental note to speak to the teachers and the parents of the children doing the bullying, they need to be informed before she took matters in her own hands.

"i love you, louis."

there's no more dried blood and he's got two thomas the tank engine stickers on his knees. he seems better in himself now she's cleaned him up and he looks at his mother. hearing those words, the magical words he longed to hear all day, he wrapped his arms around his mummy's neck and whispered;

"i love you too, mummy."

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iii.

the small buzz of the television echoes in the quiet living room, a living room that wasn't used to much silence. louis' lying on the settee, wrapped up in his action man duvet because he's been sick four times this morning and baz has kept him off school, just to be on the safe side.

he's had calpol, (every four hours) and she's trying to make him drink more water, keep him rehydrated because she doesn't fancy taking her only child to A&E for dehydration. he looks ill, his skin colour white and dark bags under his eyes.

she sits beside him, just staring at her little boy. he's six years old but she feels like he's going on sixteen. he's her little action man she calls him lovingly and he likes the pet name he's been given, it makes him feel older than his six years.

she touches his forehead with her hand, telling herself he feels fine and kisses his forehead. she doesn't move away straight away, she takes in the smell of calpol and orange juice and she smiles softly, "i love you." she whispers.

she looks back to him. his eyes are closed but there's a small smile on his face. she rubs his cheek with her finger and returns to the kitchen to finish her cleaning. she hopes to have her little man bouncing off the walls again tomorrow, the house was too silent and cold without his energy.

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iv.

he's eleven, he's a big boy because he's gone to high school. he doesn't like the fact his mum insists on driving him to school because it's uncool and everyone will think he's a baby. baz tells him to suck it up, because he's not getting the bus, not yet.

he's turning into a right teenager. he doesn't like rules or authority or being told what to do. she doesn't take it to heart much because she remembers what she was like at that age, she was terribly rude to her father and her mother.

"can you drop me off round the corner?"

she looks hurt at his suggestion but smiles. she drives him to school and as he requested, she drops him off round the corner.

"i love you louis, be good." he groans, rolls his eyes and steps out of the car. he slams the car door closed as he hitches his bag onto his shoulder and slowly walks away. baz winds down the window and calls him over.

he turns, stares at his mother for a moment and walks back to the car. then without warning, baz plants a kiss on louis' cheek in front of two of his friends who were walking up the road. she smiles as his cheeks turn bright red and answers;

"that's for being rude."

his cheeks are still red as he mutters under his breath so nobody accept his mother can hear; "love you too." she watches as he walks in the direction of the school. she winds the window back up and sighs. louis would have to get used to being his mother's little boy, he'll always be that.

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v.

he was twelve, three days ago but there was no party, no birthday cake and half-unwrapped presents. they spent the day, afternoon and evening visiting his mother, who was in a coma. he doesn't care about his birthday, he just wants his mum to wake up from her coma.

the room's silent except the beeping of the heart monitor alerting them that she's still there.

louis' sat on one of the plastic chairs from the waiting room, the chair the least comfortable but he doesn't want to move from his spot. he's rooted to the spot, saying silent prayers that his mother will wake up. god, he needs her more than he realised.

he holds his mother's hand in his, tracing his fingers over her hand and remembers the last couple of years. the times when he was sick and his mother looked after him, the times he'd been in a fight and needed to be patched up.

yes, he was a mummy's boy but he'd never change it for the world. his mum's the best person in the world. he stands up, leans over the bed and plants a kiss on her forehead. then, like the time when he ill he whispered, not afraid of anyone hearing;

"i love you." and like magic, his mother's eyes flicker open. louis tells himself as he makes eye contact with his mum that he'll never be afraid of telling his mum he loved her, even if it was classed as "uncool" by his friends.

his mother's grasp tightens around his fingers and she whispers; "i love you too."

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**jottings** — if you like it enough to favourite, please leave a review:3


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